


A Thrill of Hope

by shadowofrazia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 25 Days of Harry and Draco, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-03 17:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 12,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8723494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowofrazia/pseuds/shadowofrazia
Summary: Slythindor100 25 Days of Draco/Harry 2016





	1. Up to Your Knees

 

Draco leaned against the wall of the telephone booth and listened wearily to his mother chattering on about the weather in France. Really, he did like hearing from his mother, but she certainly had a talent for prattling on about nothing in particular.

At least it gave him an opportunity to keep up on his French now that he was away from home and his parents’ bickering.

“Did I tell you Mrs. Greengrass introduced me to her youngest daughter Astoria the other day? She was very sweet and--”

Whatever else Astoria Greengrass was, Draco never got to hear, for at that moment, the door to his phone booth opened and someone knocked painfully into his knees.

“Ow, fuck!” Draco threw out a hand to keep himself from colliding with the wall of the telephone booth.

“Language, Draco!” said his mother in his ear.

“Sorry, mother,” Draco said. “I just--give me a moment.”

Draco covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand and scowled at the man crouching on the floor beside him.

The man had brown skin, flushed red from the cold wind outside, and there were strands of wild black hair escaping from the red hat he’d crammed on his head. Judging by the strain the fabric was under, Draco suspected the man’s head would be just as warm without the hat.

“Excuse me,” said Draco, “but this booth is occupied, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Yeah, sorry,” said the man, not sounding particularly sorry at all. “‘M hiding.”

“You’re hiding,” Draco repeated, blinking.

“Draco, what’s going on?” His mother’s voice sounded concerned, and Draco uncovered the mouthpiece.

“Just a moment, mother,” he said again in French.

“Oh shit,” said the man. “I didn’t realise you were on the phone.”

“It’s a telephone booth. What else would I be doing in here?” Draco considered this for a moment. “Other than hiding. Why _are_ you hiding?”

“I told my friend Hermione I couldn’t revise with her today because I had rehearsal, which she figured out wasn’t true when I made eye-contact with her crossing the street three minutes ago.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have lied,” said Draco.

“Who lied?” asked Draco’s mother. “Darling--”

“Shit! Mother, I’ll have to call you back in a moment,” Draco said quickly, remembering that he was, in fact, in the middle of a long-distance call on a payphone. “Tell father I said hello.”

He hung up and returned to scowling down at the man beside him.

“That’s pretty neat, that.”

“What?”

“How you go back and forth like that. I’ve only ever known English.” The man pushed his glasses up with the side of his hand and grinned up at Draco. “You didn’t have to hang up on your mum like that.”

“It was a call to France. I definitely had to hang up on my mum like that,” said Draco. “Besides, I still don’t know why revising has led to you hiding in a telephone booth-- _my_ telephone booth.”

“Hermione’s a bit...intense about school, has been since I met her. She’s on a bit of a warpath right now, which is why I didn’t just _tell_ her I didn’t want to revise.”

The man straightened slightly and peeked out the window of the booth, only to sink quickly to the floor. Curious, Draco wiped off the window and looked out.

“Is she the bl--the girl with the hair?” Draco asked.

The man laughed.

“Yes,” he said. “She’s the Black girl with the hair.” He pushed his glasses up again. “Is she still there?”

Draco looked out again.

“Doesn’t look like it, no.”

“Thank god. Half the reason I ran into her was because I was going to get dinner. I’m starving.”

The man straightened, groaning slightly as his knees popped.

“I don’t suppose you spend a lot of time on your knees,” Draco said. The other man blinked, then frowned slightly, and Draco covered his mouth in horror.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-- I just--”

“The least you could do is ask my name first!” said the man, laughing.

Draco tucked his hair behind his ear, hoping the flush in his cheeks wasn’t as noticeable as it felt. He opened his mouth, but didn’t have a chance to utter a word before the door to the telephone booth was yanked open. Both Draco and the stranger turned to see the woman from earlier--Hermione, Draco’s mind provided--glowering at the pair of them.

“Harry Potter!” she said angrily, and the man-- _Harry--_ blanched.

“Hey, ‘Mi.”

“Don’t you _hey ‘Mi_ me!” said Hermione angrily. “I’ve been looking for you all day, and you show up in a bloody telephone booth?”

“It was nice meeting you!” said Harry cheerfully, even as Hermione dragged him out and away from the booth.

The door slammed shut, leaving Draco cold, confused, and surrounded by silence. It was only a few moments later that he realised that Harry had had the most startling green eyes he’d ever seen.


	2. Just a Little Kiss

 

“So you’re telling me you didn’t realise you’d locked yourself in a telephone booth with a member of the French aristocracy?” 

Harry wearily rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. Hermione had been so preoccupied with revising the night before that she hadn’t given much thought to Harry’s hiding spot, but now they had an afternoon off, it seemed to be all she wanted to talk about. 

“I didn’t even know his name, Mi,” Harry said. “Plus, I’m not an expert or anything, but I didn’t think aristocrats of any nationality used public phones to call their mum.” 

“He’s  _ not  _ an aristocrat anymore,” Hermione said. “His father disowned him earlier this year. It was all over the news.” 

“I thought you didn’t read tabloids.” 

Hermione shoved Harry, and he stumbled, laughing. 

“I don’t read tabloids,” she said firmly. “It was in the _news_. The Malfoys are a powerful family in France, and the Blacks--his mum’s family--are fairly prominent here in England, too.” 

“It doesn’t really matter,” said Harry. “It’s not like I’m going to see him again anyway. Are you coming to London with me for Christmas?” 

“No, mum and dad want to travel this Christmas. Don’t change the subject. You looked practically smitten when I pulled you out of that booth.” 

“I wasn’t  _ smitten _ ,” Harry snapped. “I was hiding.”

“Maybe you should invite Malfoy to Christmas, take him to see the sights,” Hermione said as if she hadn’t heard Harry at all. “Have a romantic kiss on Tower Bridge on Christmas Eve.” 

“I’m not going to have a kiss with him on Tower Bridge, or anywhere for that matter, because  _ I’m never going to see him again _ .” Harry pushed his glasses up with the back of his hand. 

“It’s a small town, Harry. You could see him again,” Hermione said, bumping her shoulder against Harry’s. 

“Just leave it, Mi, yeah?” 

Hermione took Harry’s hand and squeezed. 

“Come on,” she said quietly after a moment. “There’s a restaurant up here I’ve wanted to try. If we hurry, I think we can eat before the film.” 

Harry sighed and squeezed Hermione’s hand in thanks. 


	3. A Christmas Drink

If there was one thing Draco disliked about the end of term, it was the late nights in the library. He was exhausted and wished, not for the first time, that he’d just done what his father had demanded. 

At least here he had a modicum of freedom, even if most of his free time these days was spent sleeping. 

“Yeah, Lee, just give me a call tomorrow evening when you’re on your way.” 

Draco looked up at the sound of the familiar voice and saw Harry Potter walking down the steps of a nearby auditorium with a group of people. His coat was undone and his hair was just as large and messy as Draco had suspected it’d be. As if he could feel someone’s eyes on him, Harry turned and beamed when he met Draco’s gaze. 

Draco walked towards Harry. 

“I don’t think I ever got your name,” Harry said in lieu of hello. 

Draco was surprised Harry didn’t know already, considering the media circus his life had been these past few months. He didn’t say that, of course. Instead, he held out his hand. 

“Draco Malfoy.” 

Harry took his hand, smiling. 

“Harry Potter.” 

Harry’s hand was warm and soft around Draco’s, and Draco found himself hesitating to let it go. 

“Nice to officially meet you,” said Harry.

“Do you spend a lot of time in concert halls?” Draco asked after a moment, finally pulling his hand away and tucking it into his pocket. 

“Only when I’m not hiding in telephone boxes,” Harry smiled. “Or in class, I suppose.” 

“Is this the rehearsal you were meant to be at?” 

Harry nodded. “I’m in an orchestra, and December is the season of performances.” 

“Orchestra? What do you play?” 

To Draco’s surprise, Harry flushed slightly, and held up a small case. 

“That’s too small to be any instrument,” Draco said, smiling. 

“This is my piccolo case,” Harry said. “But I mostly play flute.” 

“And you’re embarrassed by that?” Draco asked. 

Harry ran his free hand through his hair. “I just got a lot of shit for it in school when I was younger, so I get preemptively defensive. I play what I play because I like it.” 

“Understandably.” 

Harry gave Draco a strange look, as if he couldn’t tell if Draco was joking or not. He chewed his lip for a moment, and seemed to make a decision. 

“Look, I know we don’t really know each other at all, but did you want to get a drink or something? There’s a pub around the corner that I like, and it’d be a little bit more pleasant than standing in the cold, I think.” 

Draco blinked, surprised. 

“Oh, shit,” said Harry. “I didn’t mean to--You know what, it’s cool. Nevermind, I’ll see you arou--”

“Is it that broomsticks place? I’ve wanted to check it out for a while,” Draco said, smiling slightly at the obvious relief on Harry’s face. 

“Right,” he said. “Shall we, then?” 

Draco nodded, feeling his tension ease at the warmth of Harry’s company as they walked together to the pub. 


	4. A Butterbeer for Two

No matter what Hermione said, Draco Malfoy did not act the way Harry would expect a French aristocrat to act. To be honest, Harry hadn’t really expected him to--he wouldn’t have invited him out if he had. Draco acted like Harry thought he would: sarcastic, clever, and just a little bit haughty. 

“I don’t understand how you can drink that stuff,” he was saying, nodding at Harry’s drink and sipping his own gin and tonic. 

Harry sipped his butterbeer and shrugged. 

“I really like sweets. Honestly, I was wondering how you can drink that shoe polish without passing out.” 

“A gin and tonic is a traditional drink,” said Draco. He paused, then added. “And relatively easy to make at home.” 

“This stuff does come bottled, you know.” Harry gestured to his own drink. “Rosmerta sells it because she got tired of people asking for the recipe.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever want to send myself into a sugar coma.” Draco wrinkled his nose and set his drink on the table. 

Harry noticed Draco’s cheeks were flushed slightly, and whether it was from the drink or the warmth of the pub, Harry didn’t know. He set his own drink down and leaned towards him. 

“So, I still don’t know much about you,” he said. “You already know one of my friends, and that I’m in an orchestra.” 

“You know that I speak French and spend an inordinate amount of time in telephone boxes.” Draco mirrored Harry’s posture. “What do you want to know?” 

“What are you studying?” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “And you start off with the most generic question.” 

“I’m doing education,” said Harry. “History, to be exact. Your turn.” 

“I’m studying medicine,” Draco said quietly. “Much to my father’s displeasure. I was meant to follow the Malfoy men into law, then into politics.” 

“Is that why he--” 

“You know about that, then?” 

Harry grimaced apologetically. 

“Hermione recognised you,” he said. “That’s not why I asked you for drinks, though. I don’t want you to think that.” 

Draco took a sip of his drink. 

“You don’t seem like the sort of person to ask me out for my money,” he said. “Or my name, for that matter, as it’s all I have left.”

“You’re forgetting your winning personality.”

To Harry’s surprise, Draco laughed loudly, throwing back his head. He picked up his drink and held it out towards Harry. 

“Cheers to that,” he said, and waited until Harry lifted his glass before finishing the rest of his drink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading so far, and for your lovely comments! <3


	5. As the Clock Struck Twelve

Draco woke up Monday morning to the sound of his alarm yanking him from an incredibly pleasant dream. He reached over and shut it off, then lay still for a long moment. 

It had been a really lovely dream. 

Sighing, Draco forced himself out of bed and away from the lingering feeling of Harry’s body pressed against his own. 

God, he really had it bad. 

***

“Hermione, I swear, if you don’t stop looking at me like that--”

“You can’t even deny you’re head over heels for this man!” Hermione said. “You’re not usually  _ this  _ absentminded. You’ve been staring off into space for at least fifteen minutes now.” 

She wasn’t wrong, and Harry knew she knew it. 

“We went out for drinks, and then parted awkwardly at the end of the night. Really, nothing--” 

“You exchanged numbers.” 

“I gave him my number.” Harry corrected. “He said he can’t be bothered to get a phone.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“You’re splitting hairs, Potter.” 

“Don’t call me Potter,” said Harry, wrinkling his nose. “It’s weird.” 

“You’re just upset that I’m right.” 

“I do hate it when you’re right.” 

“That’s not true,” Hermione said, grinning. “If it were, we wouldn’t be friends.” 

Harry threw a wad of paper across the table at her.

***

Draco ran into Harry again that night, waiting outside of the library.

“You know,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were following me.” 

Harry flushed slightly and Draco raised his eyebrows. 

“You  _ are  _ following me?” he asked, looking up at the clock tower opposite the library entrance. “It’s nearly midnight, Harry.”

Harry held up two cups. 

“I brought you a tea,” he said quietly. And then more defensively, he added, “Stop looking like that. You said the other night that you were planning to come to the library tonight. Come on, it’s good tea.” 

“Knowing you, it’s some sort of sugary butterscotch monstrosity,” Draco muttered, but he accepted the tea and took a careful sip. 

“See, it’s just a normal Irish Breakfast,” said Harry. “I’m not even sure they make butterscotch flavoured teas.” 

“Did you bring milk and sugar, by chance?” asked Draco. 

“Oh, yeah.” Harry dug around in his coat pocket for a moment and then pulled out a handful of sugar packets and creamer pods. Draco snorted and took a sugar packet and two creamers.

He sat on a nearby bench and took the lid off his cup and carefully added the sugar and cream. Harry sat beside him and shoved the remaining packets into his pocket. 

“Thank you,” said Draco once he had finished preparing his drink. “When I told you I’d be here all night studying, I hadn’t actually expected you to come meet me.” 

“It’s not creepy, is it?” asked Harry. “I didn’t even consider that.” 

“It’s nice,” Draco said honestly. “I was planning to call you tomorrow.” 

“It’s good to know I’m not the only one who’s--what’s the phrase Hermione used today? Head over heels.” 

“I’m not head over heels,” said Draco. “I am perfectly upright.” 

“I think my godfather would’ve used ‘arse over tit,’ but I don’t think either of those words is in Hermione’s repertoire.”

Draco agreed. 

“Am I making this weird?” Harry asked. “I don’t really date much--not that we’re dating, but I don’t really--I’m not sure how people usually do this.” 

Draco smiled to himself and looked over at Harry, who was carefully looking at everything but Draco. 

“I hope this isn’t our second date,” Draco said. “It’s freezing out here and this bench is hurting my arse.” 

Harry stared at him for a moment, and then grinned. 

“I guess this can be one-point-five,” he said. “As I spent quite a bit on your tea.” 

“What? All of two pounds?” 

“Three pounds,” said Harry. “The shop I went to has started doing loose-leaf teas.” 

“My mistake.” Draco laughed. “I’ll have to make it up to you in future.” 

Harry hummed in agreement, but said nothing further. Instead, he took Draco’s hand, and together, they watched the snowfall as the clock struck midnight. 


	6. A Quiet and Constant Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.” -Charles William Eliot

“I’m never sure what sort of books to get Hermione. She reads everything.” 

Ron picked up a book, glanced at the back, and then put it back on the shelf with a frown. 

“I stopped trying to buy Hermione books ages ago,” Harry said, picking up a book and flipping through it. “It does help that we share a flat, as she just takes whichever of my books she thinks look interesting.” 

“That would be so much easier,” Ron said. “Has she mentioned anything?” 

“Nothing other than exams and--” 

“Oh, yeah. Exams and your new beau.” 

“Please don’t ever call him that again,” Harry said, laughing. “Besides we’ve only been out a couple times.” 

“In as many days,” said Ron. “Hermione says you’re--” 

“I swear to god, if you say  _ smitten _ , I will throw this book and leave you alone to figure out what to get Hermione.” 

Ron laughed. 

“You’re not really helping as it is.” 

“I will leave,” Harry repeated firmly. 

Ron walked around the shelf to stand beside Harry. He skimmed over the titles on the shelf, and as he did so, he asked, “So what’s this Malfoy guy like anyway?” 

Harry shrugged. “He’s doing medicine.” 

“Dr. and Mr. Malfoy.” Ron made a face. “‘Harry Malfoy’ doesn’t really have the same ring to it as ‘Harry Potter’ does.” 

“Fuck off,” Harry muttered, flushing despite himself. “We’ve gone on like two dates. One of them wasn’t really a date. And I would hyphenate my name.”

“Hermione’s always said that about her name, too,” Ron said absentmindedly. “‘Granger-Weasley’ sounds rather nice to me.” 

Harry dropped the book he’d been holding. 

“You’re not proposing,” he said. 

Ron’s ears went red, and he twisted his hands in his scarf. 

“It’s started coming up more and more, especially now that she’s doing her postgraduate degree, and I’ve got a nice job with Fred and George’s company, so--I mean, I wouldn’t surprise her with it, and I know she’d kill me if I tried to do it in public. I thought maybe I’d bring it up after she gets back from travelling with her parents?” Ron rubbed the back of his neck and smiled nervously.

“I’m happy for you.” Harry grinned. “Just let me know when I should offer my congratulations.” 

“You’re going to jinx it,” Ron mumbled, unable to keep his own grin from spreading over his face. He grabbed a book off the shelf at random and turned towards the register. Harry stopped Ron with a hand on his arm. 

“Ron, I’m not sure vampire erotica is the best choice for Hermione.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for Reading!


	7. Calm and Bright

  


Draco leaned back in his chair and blew over the top of his tea as his mother spoke. He found he was much more willing to let her go on and on when he didn’t have to stand in a freezing telephone box for an hour. 

“Are you listening to me, Draco?” his mother asked. 

“Of course, mother,” Draco said, taking a sip of tea and suddenly very conscious of his posture. He sat up. “You were talking about the Christmas dinner you and father are putting on.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to try--”

Draco set his tea aside and rubbed his forehead. 

“Mother, could we not have this conversation again?” 

“Darling, I simply don’t understand why you’re so against the idea.” 

“I’d rather not have to spend the rest of my life in a loveless marriage for the sake of politics,” Draco said. 

“There are a lot of people in arranged marriages, Draco. Your father and I had an arranged marriage and we’re both perfectly happy.” 

“And straight,” Draco added. 

“Draco,” his mother said. “I’m sure--” 

“That it won’t be an issue between me and my hypothetical wife? Or that it’s something that can be ignored until it goes away?” 

“Draco, that’s not what I was going to say,” his mother snapped. “You’re being difficult.” 

“Mother, I told you I didn’t want to talk about it,” Draco responded, feeling like he had every right to be difficult in this conversation.

Draco walked to the kitchen, dumped his tea in the sink, and then leaned against the kitchen counter. His mother sighed.

“Does this mean you won’t be coming for Christmas?” she asked. 

“Has father finally figured out he’s being utterly ridiculous?” 

Draco’s mother’s silence answered the question. 

“I suppose I’ll be staying here, then.” 

“He does miss you, Draco,” his mother murmured after a moment. “It’ll just take him time to come around.” 

“Yes, well, call me if it happens,” Draco said bitterly. “Look, I’ve got a lot of revising to do before tomorrow. I’ll call you in a few days.” 

“We love you, Draco. You do know that?” 

_ Some days more than others, _ Draco thought to himself. 

“I know, mother,” he said. “I’ve got to go.” 

Draco hung up and threw the phone onto his couch. He paced the room a few times, and then went to grab his coat. 

When he was growing up, Draco had always liked going for walks around the grounds of the large manors he and his family would visit. His favourite walks were those that took place on winter nights, when the only sound around him was that of his shoes against the ground. It felt like too much, sometimes, the silence pressing in around him. 

He missed it now. 

Draco made his way down the street and to the park near his flat. He pushed through the gate, wincing as it squeaked loudly, and walked over to the swings.  Wrapping his sleeve around his hand, Draco brushed the snow off a swing and sat down, gripping the chains and breathing in the cold air.

There was something about the stillness of the park, a place that was often so full of life and sound, that helped Draco’s rushing thoughts slow. He felt out of time here, like all of the things in his life had stopped for just a moment. Draco breathed slowly, closing his eyes and letting the cold weave its way into his lungs and through his body. 

As much as he was loath to admit it, he missed his father.

Draco opened his eyes, taking in the bright white of the moon-bathed snow, and convinced himself the pressure behind his eyes was due to the cold.


	8. Little Sprinkly Things On Top

“Ron’s been acting strange lately,” Hermione said. 

“Honestly, it’d be more of a concern if he wasn’t acting strange,” Harry said, stirring his coffee and pushing his plate of cookies towards Hermione in invitation.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed, and took a cookie, “but this is even stranger.” 

Harry shrugged and said, “I dunno what to tell you.”

“He’s not mentioned anything?” 

“Other than not knowing what to get you for Christmas, no.” 

Hermione tilted her head to the side, as if she was trying to decide whether or not to believe Harry. He took a sip of coffee to keep himself from grinning. To his relief, she sighed. 

“I suppose you’re right. I might drop a few hints for him about gifts.” She wrapped her scarf around her neck and stood. “I’ve got to get to class. Make sure to eat something other than sweets before tonight, okay?” 

Harry took an exaggerated bite of one of the Christmas cookies on his plate and made a face at Hermione. She rolled her eyes, but when he leant his face up towards her, Hermione pressed a kiss to his cheek before hurrying from the cafe. 


	9. Sweater Weather

  


Draco was nervous. He was nervous and didn’t know what to wear. This was ridiculous. What did one wear to a not-quite-boyfriend’s orchestra concert. Draco knew what to wear to a normal orchestra concert, but not one like this. 

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, pulling off the red jumper he’d put on. He dug through his closet and found an old, soft green jumper. 

It was far more casual than anything he’d dare wear to an orchestra performance with his parents, but as they weren’t present, he pulled on the jumper. Besides, he was fairly certain they matched the colour of Harry’s eyes. 

Draco nodded at his reflection in the mirror and went to find his shoes. The trip to the auditorium wasn’t long, but due to his indecision on jumpers, Draco had to hurry to get to his seat before the house lights dimmed. 

The orchestra had always been something Draco had loved. He loved the way the music swelled and pulled him under, and sent chills up his spine. It reminded him of what he thought flying might feel like, or perhaps the way magic would feel. The intermission came and went, and before Draco knew it, the performance had ended. He walked out into the lobby and made his way towards the stage door. He leant against the wall and closed his eyes, replaying the concert in his head. 

“Excuse me,” said a vaguely familiar voice. 

Draco opened his eyes, only to be met by the sight of Hermione, and straightened his posture under her critical eye. 

“May I help you?” he asked. 

“Harry’s got some idea in his head that I’m going to frighten you off, so hasn’t yet introduced us,” she said. “I’m Hermione Granger.” 

She held out her hand. Draco shook it. 

“Draco Malfoy,” he said. “You’re not going to frighten me off.” 

“She’s not been angry with you yet,” Harry said from behind Draco. Draco turned and took in the image of Harry in his performance tuxedo. He flushed and cleared his throat. 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and congratulate you on a fantastic performance,” Hermione said, pulling Harry into a hug. Draco noticed they were nearly the same height, and smiled to himself. 

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Harry said to Draco over Hermione’s shoulder. 

Draco shrugged. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said. 

Hermione glanced between the two of them, and clearly fought back a grin. 

“Ron’s waiting for me to join him for dinner,” she said. “I’ll see you at home, Harry. Lovely to meet you, Draco.” 

She kissed Harry’s cheek and hurried out the door. Harry turned to Draco and grinned. 

“So, is this date number two, then?” 

“Two-point-five.” 

***

Draco unlocked the door to his flat and held the door open to let Harry follow him in. Harry locked the door behind himself and unwound his scarf. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Draco asked, leading the way into the flat. 

“Sure,” said Harry. “Whatever you’re having is fine. Where should I hang my coat?” 

“There’s a hook on the back of the door you can hang it on.” 

Draco walked into the kitchen and pulled two glasses from the cupboard. He poured a two glasses of wine--sweet, as he knew Harry’s preference for sugary drinks--and went into the sitting room, where Harry was standing and looking at his bookshelf. 

“Have you read all of these?” he asked, taking one of the glasses.

“Not all of them, no,” said Draco. “My father at least let me keep those.” 

“You’ve got a nice place,” Harry said. “It’s very you.” 

“Thank you,” Draco said, slightly unsure that he was being complimented. 

“You’re welcome.” Harry laughed. “It’s a compliment.” 

Draco sat on the couch and watched Harry move around the room. He’d never really liked having people in his house, but Draco didn’t mind Harry looking around. Harry looked a bit out of place, with his wild hair tamed just slightly, and in his tuxedo that was incredibly well tailored. 

“Thank you,” said Harry. Draco blinked. 

“Sorry?” he asked. 

“You said my tuxedo was well tailored, so I said thank you,” Harry explained, moving over to the couch. “I don’t like to spend a lot of money on things, even if I’m rather well off, but I wear this tuxedo so much I figured it was worth it.” 

The pair of them sat in semi-awkward silence for a moment before Draco threw caution to the wind and asked,

“Would you mind if I kissed you?” 

“Not in the least,” Harry said. 

The first kiss was an awkward, hesitant press of lips, that almost had Draco regretting his question. He pulled away, grimacing, but had nary a moment to worry before Harry was pulling him back in for another kiss. 

This one went much better, if Draco said so himself. He reached over and set his wineglass on the coffee table, and pulled Harry closer. Harry laughed against his mouth. 

“I’m going to spill wine all over your sofa,” he said. 

Draco took Harry’s glass and set it beside his own. This close, Harry’s eyes seemed greener than ever. He felt Harry trail his hand over the sleeve of his jumper and glanced down. 

“You know,” said Harry, “that’s a rather nice colour on you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be slightly different, but I suppose that'll have to wait until a later part, because I am bad at managing my time. Also, finals week(s). Thank you for reading! :D


	10. Your Lips are Delicious

Harry loved the feeling of Draco’s jumper under his fingertips, but even more, he liked the press of Draco’s lips against his own. Draco’s fingers carded through the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck, timid and cold against Harry’s skin. 

They pulled apart a few moments later, and Harry took in the flush on Draco’s usually pale cheeks, and the slight part of his reddened lips. The longer Harry looked, the redder Draco went, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he held Draco’s gaze, finding all the different shades of grey in his eyes. 

“What are you staring at?” Draco murmured finally. 

“Someone I’m apparently smitten with,” said Harry. He grinned and reached over for his wine. 

“Apparently?” Draco asked, doing the same. 

Harry sighed up at the ceiling. “I dunno, that’s what everyone’s been telling me.” 

“You’re a git.” 

Harry laughed. “Careful, or this’ll end up being another half date.” 

“Still a git,” Draco responded, taking a lazy sip of his drink. “I’m starving. Would you like something to eat?” 

“That’d be fantastic,” said Harry. “Do you want me to help or--” 

“No, no,”  said Draco. “You’ve had a long night and I’ve got a small kitchen.” 

Harry stayed in the sitting room for all of two minutes before he followed Draco into the kitchen. Draco was standing at the counter, humming to himself as he sliced a block of cheese. Quietly as he could, Harry moved across the kitchen and pressed a kiss to Draco’s neck. He jumped slightly.

“I’m holding a  _ knife _ , Potter. I could have stabbed you,” he said without turning. 

“But you didn’t,” Harry said, and kissed Draco again.

“I thought you said you were hungry.” 

“ _ You  _ said you were hungry.” Harry reminded him. He rested a hand on Draco’s hip and heard Draco’s breath hitch. “Is this okay?” 

Draco nodded, set the knife on the cutting board, and turned around.

Harry wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but they were kissing, and he felt himself pressing Draco back against the kitchen counter. Draco kissed back just as fiercely, and Harry felt him run his hands up his chest and over his shoulders, pushing the tuxedo off and onto the floor. 

“That was expensive,” Harry muttered between kisses. 

“Nothing a good dry cleaner can’t fix,” Draco responded. 

“Hermione would kill you if she heard you say that.” 

“Good thing she didn’t hear me, then,” Draco said, making his way down the row of buttons on Harry’s shirt. 

Harry pulled Draco’s sweater off and let it drop to the kitchen floor to join his tuxedo jacket. 

Draco laughed, and bat Harry’s hand away as he started to undo the buttons of Draco’s shirt. “Since we’re clearly not going to get to this food,” Draco said, “would you mind moving out of the way so I can put it away so it doesn’t spoil?”

Harry snorted and moved back. He picked up their discarded clothes. 

“Five minutes,” he said, turning to leave the kitchen. “Any more and the cheese can fucking spoil.” 


	11. What it Says on the Tin

The first thing Draco realised when he woke up Saturday morning was that he was incredibly warm. He looked over and saw Harry asleep in bed beside him. As he watched, Harry made a troubled sound, and frowned slightly in his sleep. The way he frowned accented the thin lightning bolt shaped scar that was on the left side of his forehead. 

Draco wondered, not for the first time, how somebody would get a scar like that, but as Harry often made an effort to cover the mark with his hair, Draco figured it was best not to ask. 

Harry was everything Draco wasn’t, Draco thought as he looked over Harry’s exposed chest. He was dark in all the places Draco was light, and soft where Draco was all edges. Draco turned over and sighed up at the ceiling. 

God, he had it bad. 

As carefully as he could, so as not to disturb Harry, Draco slipped from the bed and into the bathroom. He looked at his reflection and grimaced. His hair was sticking up in odd places, which was normal in the morning. What wasn’t normal, however, were the marks decorating his collarbone. He turned his head and saw a couple more at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

Hopefully he’d be able to cover them for class. 

Draco washed his face and brushed his teeth. Before he left the bathroom, he wet his hand and ran it through his hair. Harry had seen a lot of him the night before, but Draco wasn’t quite ready to reveal exactly what he looked like in the morning. 

The movement of the mattress woke Harry, who sat up so quickly Draco nearly toppled from the bed.

“Shit!” Harry exclaimed, reaching out and grasping Draco’s wrist. He tugged, and Draco fell across Harry’s chest with a truly attractive grunt. 

“Good morning,” Harry said, laughing breathlessly. “Are you alright?” 

“I’ve not decided yet,” said Draco, pushing himself up so he could give Harry a kiss. “Good morning.” 

“Wait, turn your head a bit.” 

Draco did so, and felt Harry trace the marks on his neck with his fingers. 

“Sorry,” Harry murmured, flushing. 

“I really don’t mind,” Draco responded, keeping his head tilted so Harry could continue admiring his handiwork. 

With every touch, Draco’s heartbeat fluttered in his chest, and he found himself holding his breath as Harry’s hands ghosted over his skin. Harry sat up slightly and kissed Draco again, trailing his hands down Draco’s sides and over his hips. 

“We’re never going to get out of this bed,” Draco mumbled. 

Harry grinned up at him. “There are worse things,” he said, and he rolled his hips and laughed when Draco moaned. 

*** 

It was a few hours before Draco and Harry made their way into the kitchen, driven mostly by hunger. Draco looked through the refrigerator while Harry went through the cupboard. He was considering taking out the cheese from the night before when he heard Harry let out a bark of laughter. 

Draco hit his head on the top of the refrigerator, and turned, swearing. 

“What are you laughing at?” he asked. 

Harry couldn’t speak, he was laughing so hard. Instead, he held up a tin, laughing the entire time. Draco took it, and made a face.

“I didn’t buy this,” he said. 

“It was--” Harry took a gasping breath. “It was in your cupboard.” 

“I don’t even know how old this is,” said Draco. “And we’re definitely not eating it.” 

Harry continued to laugh. He had tears streaming down his face, and Draco couldn’t stop himself joining in. 

“I wonder if I could get Ron to eat it,” said Harry once he’d calmed down enough to speak. 

“That would be unethical--possibly deadly,” Draco said. “No, this is going directly in the bin.” 

“You don’t want to try a little bit?” Harry asked. “Not even opening it?” 

“I’ve put my mouth in quite a few places in the past twelve or so hours, but I draw the line at this.” 

Harry snorted, let out a giggle, and then fell into peals of laughter. While he was distracted, Draco dropped the offending item into the bin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I laughed for a good 15 minutes when I saw this prompt. I was both horrified and amused, and very glad it doesn't actually exist. (If it does exist, please PLEASE do not let me know.) Thank you for reading!


	12. A Christmas Proposal

“Harry Potter, I am going to kill you!” 

“What’ve I done now?” Harry asked without turning towards Hermione as she stormed into the kitchen. 

She thrust her hand under his nose, and it took him a moment to realise what he was looking at. 

“Oh, so he did it already!” he said, and then ducked when Hermione began hitting him with her small handbag. 

“Why didn’t you tell me!” she asked, accenting her words with a swing of her bag. 

“I didn’t realise he was going to ask so soon! He said he was going to wait until you were back from your holiday!” Harry said. He grabbed her bag and stuffed it up his shirt to keep her from taking it back. “And clearly you weren’t too bothered by the whole thing, because you are wearing a very nice ring.” 

Hermione looked thoughtfully  at her left hand. “It is quite nice, isn’t it?” 

“Have you told your parents yet?” Harry asked. 

“I called them yesterday to let them know. They’re very  excited.” Hermione climbed up onto the other stool at the breakfast bar. “You look knackered,” she said.

“It was a busy weekend,” said Harry, pulling the handbag from beneath his jumper and setting it on the table. “Between performances on Saturday night and Sunday morning and--”

“The fact you didn’t come home until eleven last night.” Hermione finished his sentence for him. 

“I went to the library,” Harry said defensively.

“What, in someone else’s jumper?” Hermione raised her eyebrows. “It looks nice on you. Hopefully Draco will let you keep it.” 

“It’s one of his favourites,” Harry said, tugging slightly on the hem.

“Was he a perfect gentleman?” 

Harry shrugged. “As much as he could be, all things considered.” 

“Were  _ you  _ a perfect gentleman?” Hermione asked.

“Do you know me at all, Mi?” Harry placed a hand over his heart. “I made dinner, if you’d like some. It’s in the oven.” 

“Dinner sounds lovely.” 

Hermione slid off the stool and went to make herself a plate of food. She looked happy, Harry noticed, happier than she’d looked in a while, though part of that he supposed was due to the stress of end of term. 

“So Ron’s parents and mine are planning an engagement party at the Burrow on New Year’s Eve,” she said. “Family, and partners invited, of course. I thought, if you wanted to ask Draco…” 

Harry chewed his lip for a moment and then said, “I’ll ask. Would it be too much? We’ve only been together for a couple weeks. And you know, I love the Burrow and the Weasleys, but it’s a lot of people to throw at him at once. There are only three people in his immediate family, including him, and I’d bet they ate separately most of the time.” 

“If Draco cares about you, I’m sure he’ll at least consider it,” Hermione said gently. “Besides, the Burrow is bound to be much more enjoyable than whatever state dinners he’s had to attend in the past.” 

Harry considered that. He’d had to attend only one banquet in his life. It’d been horrible--stuffy and awkward. He and Hermione had been the darkest people at the table, and he’d felt all the more uncomfortable for that. It hadn’t been enjoyable in the least, and even the magnificent food hadn’t made it any better. 

“I’ll ask,” said Harry after a moment. “But I don’t want him to feel like he’s got to do anything he doesn’t want to.”

“He knows that, Harry,” Hermione said, turning the kettle on. “Would you like some cocoa?” 

Harry shook his head, getting up. 

“I think I’m going to get some sleep,” he said. “I am exhausted.” 

“Go on,” Hermione said. “You made dinner, so I’ll get the dishes before I go to bed.” 

“Thanks, Mi.” Harry leant over the counter and kissed her cheek. When he reached the doorway, he turned back. “Hey, Hermione?” 

“Hm?” Hermione looked up. 

“Congratulations.” 

“Oh,” said Hermione. She smiled. “Thank you, Harry.” 


	13. Coffee and Crackers

Draco saw Pansy the moment she walked into the café. She commanded attention, no matter where she went, and without doing a single thing. The other people in the cafe watched her walk by, and if the small smile on her lips was anything to go by, Pansy knew they were looking. Every move of hers was calculated, and if Draco knew her--and he did--he knew their meeting would be in at least one tabloid. 

“Draco!” Pansy said, as if she hadn’t spotted him the moment she’d walked in. She walked over to his table and leant to kiss him on both cheeks. 

“Laying it on thick today, are we?” Draco asked in French. “How many cameras have you got in here today?” 

“I learnt from the best,” said Pansy. “And must we do this in French? You know I think your accent’s atrocious.” 

“I’ve spoken it longer than you have,” Draco responded. “Since I was a child, in fact. I didn’t think you called me here for a French lesson, Pans.” 

“Can’t I say hello to an old friend?” 

“An old friend, yes, but an ex-fiancé?” 

Pansy  nodded thankfully to the server who brought her coffee. Then, to Draco, she said, “You caught me. Your mother called.” 

“Pansy--” 

“You won’t even consider going for Christmas?” she asked. “You won’t pull a few crackers with your father?” 

“Father isn’t even acknowledging me,” Draco said. “Besides he hates crackers. The sound makes him jump, and he’s only got so much patience for puns.”

“A trait, if I remember correctly, you inherited, in addition to your stubbornness,” Pansy said. “You can’t just call your mother and say you’ll go to France for Christmas?” 

“To let her match me with some woman I’ve never met?” 

Pansy shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. “You could’ve had me.” 

Draco laughed in spite of himself. 

“You’re right,” he said, “but neither of us would’ve been happy in the end.” 

Pansy shrugged again. 

“You understand, don’t you Pans?” Draco asked, suddenly slightly desperate. “You understand why I can’t back down, not from this.” 

Pansy smiled sadly. “I know, Draco.” 

Draco reached out and grasped her hand in gratitude. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held her hand. Harry’s hand felt different when Draco had held it a few days before, a warm and oddly perfect fit. Pansy’s hands were cold.

“I’ve missed you,” Draco murmured.

Pansy pulled her hand away. She glanced down into her lap and nervously twisted her hands. Draco leant back and let his own hands drop into his lap. 

“Who is it?” he asked. 

“Blaise Zabini,” said Pansy. “The wedding’s in June.” 

“I remember Blaise from school,” Draco said. “He’s very clever, not bad looking either.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“I’m happy for you,” Draco said, and he meant it, even if he felt a twinge of sadness in the pit of his stomach. They’d broken off their engagement, but Draco and Pansy had been friends long before that.

“I wanted to tell you in person. Mother and father don’t want you to attend the wedding, but I’m trying to change their minds.” 

“Thank you,” Draco murmured. 

“I don’t know that I’ll be successful, mind,” Pansy added, “but I would like to have you there, and I’m sure Blaise wouldn’t mind seeing you either.” 

Draco snorted. 

“I’ve really managed to fuck all everything up, haven’t I?” he said. 

“You were always good at getting yourself into trouble.” Pansy picked up her coffee and cradled it in her hands. “Are you happy, Draco?” she asked after a moment. 

“I think so,” Draco said. He glanced at his watch and sighed. “I’ve got to get to class.” 

“I forgot, you’re a medical student now.” 

“Mhm,” Draco responded. “I’m a student who’s got an exam in about fifteen minutes. Anyway, I think we’ve given your photographers enough material for at least a couple questionable magazines.” 

He wrapped his scarf around his neck and pulled his coat on. He stood, drained the rest of his coffee, and kissed Pansy’s cheeks. 

“Draco,” she said before he could get too far, “what’s his name?”

Draco flushed. 

“Was I so obvious?” he asked. Pansy smiled, but didn’t otherwise answer, and Draco relented.

“Harry,” he said. “His name is Harry. 

And with that, Draco left Pansy and the café behind.


	14. Hang All The Mistletoe

Draco opened the door to his flat, and Harry grinned at him, holding up a load of bags. 

“I brought decorations,” he said cheerfully, handing Draco the bags. “I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Harry turned and hurried down the stairs. 

“Where are you going?” Draco called. 

“I’ll be back in a moment!” Harry called over his shoulder. 

He ran to Hermione’s car and motioned at her to open the boot so he could pull out the boxed tree. He waved at her, then, and waited for Draco to buzz him back into the building. Harry carried the tree up to Draco’s flat. Draco stepped aside to let him in. 

“What’s all this, then?” Draco asked, crossing his arms. 

“They’re decorations,” Harry said, removing his coat. He kissed Draco. 

“I gathered. Why are they here?” 

Harry’s face dropped. “I thought it’d help,” he said quietly. 

Draco ran a hand down his face and sank onto the couch. He picked up what looked like a glass of water. Judging by the face he made, Harry figured it was something significantly stronger. He sat on the couch with Draco, and leaned against him. 

“They were nice photos,” Harry said carefully. “Parkington is very pretty.”

“Parkinson,” Draco corrected softly. “And she knows she’s pretty. Everyone knows she’s pretty. Hell, they even pay her for it these days.”

“They could pay you for the same,” Harry said. “I’d pay for a magazine full of photos of you.” He paused. “That sounded really weird.” 

“It did.” Draco agreed, but he smiled briefly. He looked away from Harry and said, “I was going to marry her.” 

“I know,” said Harry. When Draco looked up at him, surprised, Harry said, “I asked Hermione. She reads a lot.” 

“She reads filth, apparently.” 

Harry snorted. “Don’t let her hear that.” 

“Maybe it’d do her some good,” Draco said. He sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a--”

“Pain in the arse?” 

“Something like that.” Draco looked around the room and the decorations littering his sitting room floor. “You brought me a plastic tree.” 

“I’m allergic to one specific kind of pine, so Hermione and I just said fuck it and decided to get a fake tree,” Harry explained. He stood and went through the bags, pulling out ornaments and tinsel. 

“What are you looking for?” Draco asked. Curious, he walked over to stand beside Harry. 

“You’ll see,” said Harry, continuing to search. “I’m sure it’s in here some--Aha!” 

He stood, holding up a sprig of mistletoe.

“You’re not serious,” Draco said. “It’s  _ plastic _ .” 

Harry wiggled the mistletoe above his head, smiling foolishly. 

“What do I see in you?” Draco muttered, but he rolled his eyes and pulled Harry into a kiss.


	15. Cocoa by the Fire

Draco kicked the door to his flat closed with his foot and carried the box that’d been waiting for him into the house. He set it on the kitchen counter and pulled out a knife to slice the box open. 

The box was full of packing peanuts, and beneath them, was an envelope with his mother’s handwriting on it, in addition to a few glass jars. Draco sighed and opened the envelope and read the note within. 

_ My Dearest Draco, _

_ I hope all is well with you. Pansy tells me you seem quite happy. Nevertheless, I thought you might enjoy some things from home.  _

_ We miss you.  _

_ Merry Christmas _

Draco set the letter on the counter, and reached into the box again. What he saw made his stomach clench. The tag hanging from the jar read:  _ A drink for a warm night _ , with a small candy cane drawn beneath it. Draco peered through the glass of the jar and, sure enough, could see hot cocoa mix with small, glittering specks of candy cane mixed throughout. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one today! This has reminded me to buy candy canes. Thanks for reading!


	16. Padfoot

Harry sat on his bed as he watched Draco look around his room. Draco was, Harry realised, much more polite in his exploration than Harry was with his. Still, Harry nervously chewed his lip as Draco bent slightly at the waist to get a closer look at the photographs on Harry’s dresser.

“You have a dog?” asked Draco, picking up a photo of Harry hugging a massive black dog. 

“Ah, that’s Padfoot,” Harry said, standing to look at the photo with Draco. “He was my godfather’s. I’m not allowed pets here, so he’s staying with Remus until I move next year.”

“Padfoot doesn’t look like any dog I’ve ever seen.” 

“He’s a wolf-dog hybrid,” Harry explained. At Draco’s mildly alarmed look, he added, “There’s no reason to look like that. He’s very sweet. Maybe you can come meet him over Christmas.” 

Draco set the photo back on the dresser and looked over his shoulder at Harry. 

“Are you inviting me to stay with you, your godfather, and your wolf over Christmas?” he asked. 

Harry glanced away. “Just me and my wolf, actually,” he said. “My, uh--my godfather died a few years back.” 

“I’m sorry,” said Draco quietly. “I didn’t mean to be so--”

“No need to apologise,” Harry said. “You didn’t know.” 

He shrugged and smiled. 

“Where do you live when you’re not here?” Draco asked, gesturing vaguely around the room. 

“I go down to London to see Remus, and my cousin Dudley. I have a house there--it was my godfather’s, too,” said Harry. “I’m sure Remus has decorated it.” 

“You and your decorations.” Draco shook his head. “Can I think about it a bit?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Harry said quickly. “Of course. You can take all the time you need-- Well, obviously not all the time, but--”

“Okay,” said Draco. “I’ll come to London with you for Christmas.” 

Harry frowned for a moment, then lightly shoved Draco, laughing. 

“You’re a prat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend of mine had a wolf-dog hybrid, and she was the most gorgeous, sweetest dog! Also, another short update today, but hopefully they'll get a little longer soon! Thanks for reading!


	17. A Very Hallmark Christmas

Draco followed Harry’s directions as he drove to the restaurant. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that  his knuckles had gone white--he was nervous enough about dinner without having to worry about driving in the snow. 

“Should be right up here on the left,” said Harry. He’d been relatively quiet the entire drive, as if he knew how on edge Draco was. Considering how chatty and energetic Harry could be, Draco was honestly surprised by the quiet, even if he did appreciate it. 

Draco pulled into the restaurant car park and shut off the engine. 

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Harry said. “Hermione already likes you, and Ron likes anyone with a good sense of humour.”

“Well, I’m already out of luck, then,” Draco responded. 

“ _ Stop _ ,” Harry said. “It’ll be fine.” 

Draco ran a hand through his hair, and then grimaced. He really needed a haircut. It was tickling the back of his neck, and he hated it. As if Harry knew what Draco was thinking, he tucked a lock of hair behind Draco’s ear. Draco leant into the touch and closed his eyes. 

“They’re going to like you,” Harry said firmly, gently combing his fingers through Draco’s hair. “It’s only a dinner with friends.” 

“Right,” said Draco. “Yes, of course.” 

Harry kissed the corner of Draco’s mouth and got out of the car. He took draco’s hand and squeezed it as they walked into the restaurant. 

The restaurant was small, warm, and unlike any restaurant Draco had been to growing up. The long wooden tables actually seemed closer to benches, and at the occupied tables, Draco could see large dishes of food that people used to serve themselves. There were fairy lights lining the walls, and a large Christmas tree in the far corner. 

“This place is like a bloody Christmas card,” Draco said. “All it’s missing is a fireplace.” 

Harry snorted. 

“I think there’s one in the other room, if I’m remembering correctly,” he said. “This place isn’t nearly as overwhelming in the summer. Come on, I see Ron and Hermione.” 

Draco’s anxiety returned in full force, but he forced it away and followed Harry to the table. 


	18. Sleigh Ride

Harry had learnt the first night he’d stayed over at Draco’s that Draco tended to run cold, and so Harry accepted his role as a living furnace. That didn’t mean it was comfortable waking up with someone right on top of his diaphragm. 

“Hey Draco, I can’t breathe,” Harry said quietly. Draco murmured something Harry didn’t catch and moved over enough that Harry could take a breath without it hurting.

“I didn’t hear you,” Harry said. 

Draco sat up and squinted at Harry. “I said, ‘I guess I’m up now.’”

“Do you want want breakfast? I think I hear Hermione in the kitchen. Breakfast is only thing she’s better than me at cooking.” 

Draco curled more closely beside Harry, who wrapped an arm around him. 

“Maybe in a moment,” he said. “I’m freezing.”

Some fifteen minutes later, both Harry and Draco made their way out to the kitchen. Sure enough, Hermione was in the kitchen, humming to herself while she made breakfast, still in her pyjamas with a scarf twisted around her head. She smiled when Harry and Draco shuffled into the kitchen. 

“Morning,” she said. “There’s coffee ready. Everything else should be ready in a few minutes.” 

“Thanks,” said Harry. He gestured at Draco to sit at the breakfast bar, and went to pour two mugs of coffee. 

“No sugar, Harry,” Draco said, and then rested his head on his arms. 

“You’re not much of a morning person, are you?” Hermione asked.

“What gave you that idea?”

Harry set one mug in front of Draco and sat in the seat beside him.

“He’ll be fine once he has some coffee,” Harry said to Hermione. 

Hermione raised her eyebrows, but turned back to the pan of food.

“Do you two have plans for today?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” said Harry. 

“I was actually going to suggest that we go for one of those sleigh rides they do in the park,” Draco said, lifting his mug to his lips. He lowered it as he realised neither Harry nor Hermione had said anything. “Did I say something wrong?” 

Harry hadn’t known Draco was going to suggest sleigh rides, but if he had, he would’ve warned Draco against mentioning it around Hermione. He began counting in his head, and barely got to seven before Hermione started speaking. 

“You know those horses are abused, right?” she asked angrily.

“I--” Draco opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I-- Are they?” 

“The ones in the park aren’t,” Harry said. “I’ve spoken to their handlers. They live better than I do.” 

“Not the point, Harry!” Hermione snapped, pointing the spatula in his direction. “There are tourist attractions all around the world dependent on the abuse of animals, and horses are included in that! The poor things are forced to carry loads of people for hours on end with inadequate food and water!” 

“Mi, could you stop waving the spatula around like that?” Harry asked. “You’re getting egg everywhere, and it’s my week to clean the kitchen. And it was just a suggestion.”

“And Harry said the ones in the park are well taken care of,” Draco added. 

“We might stay in and watch a film instead,” Harry said. “If you’d like to join us?”

Hermione spooned the food onto three separate plates and set two of them on the breakfast bar. “No thank you,” she said. “You know the third Sunday of the month is the day I wash my hair.” She picked up her own plate. “You two have fun.” 

And with that she left the kitchen. 

“Does she do that often?” Draco asked quietly. 

“Every now and then,” said Harry. “I should’ve warned you about the horses. Hermione’s very passionate about the causes she supports.” Harry smiled. “She’s been fighting ever since I met her.” 

“She is very clever,” Draco said.

Harry chuckled and took a bite of food. 

“That’s an understatement. She pretty much got me through my final year of uni.” 

The pair ate in silence for a few moments before Draco lowered his fork. 

“Hang on,” he said. “Why can’t she just come out after she washes her hair?” 

Harry threw his head back and laughed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hair thing is a little bit of a joke, but not really. I washed my hair last weekend and the whole process took like three hours between the washing, the deep conditioning, the combing, the rinsing out of the deep conditioner, and the application of the leave in conditioner. Apparently, I want my Black!Hermione to be as authentic as possible. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! :D


	19. Bring Us A Figgy Pudding

Draco was cold, stiff, and exhausted. He and Harry had spent the better part of the day on a train to London, and while he was happy for the opportunity to get out of Scotland and his small apartment, Draco was in a decidedly sour mood. 

“We’re nearly to Grimmauld Place, if you wanted to stop for dinner,” Harry said cautiously. Draco had snapped at him some fifteen minutes earlier, and clearly Harry hadn’t forgotten. “There’s a place nearby that does a fantastic flaming Christmas pudding.” 

“It’s not Christmas yet,” Draco pointed out.

“They do a fantastic flaming pudding, then,” Harry said, “if we’re going to be picky about it. They also do a nice shepherd’s pie.” 

Draco found it in himself to smile, and he reached out to grasp Harry’s hand. 

“Dinner would be nice.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly inspired by the fact that I am spending most of tomorrow travelling. It's short because I have to pack now. Thank you for reading!


	20. Cocoa by the Fire

In a word, 12 Grimmauld Place was dark. In two words? Really dark. 

It wasn’t just the obscene lack of windows the further you went into the house, nor was it the dark wood and wallpaper that decorated every room. It was just the  _ feeling  _ of the place, one that had lingered even when Harry had first visited at fifteen. 

It’d got worse when Sirius died.

“If you hate it so much, why do you come back so much? Your place at uni is really nice.” Draco leant against the kitchen counter while he watched Harry bustle around. 

“I figure I’m paying for it, I might as well use it,” Harry said, and then poked his head into a cupboard. “Once we get settled, it’ll be alright.” 

“As usual, Harry proves to be far too optimistic.”

Harry tried to stand, and swore profusely when his head connected with the cupboard. Rubbing the back of his head, he straightened and grinned at Remus, who was standing in the kitchen, holding a few bags of groceries. 

“Hey Remus,” said Harry, hugging the other man. He felt too thin, but Harry figured Remus was thinking the same thing about him. 

“Ah, let me put these bags down, so I can give you a proper hug.” Remus set the bags on the  large table beside the kitchen and hugged Harry even tighter. “I’ve missed you, Harry. I would say you’ve grown, but I think it’s more likely I’m shrinking.”

Harry laughed and pulled away.

“And here I thought I was happy to see you,” he said, turning to Draco. “Draco, this is Remus Lupin. Remus, this is Draco Malfoy.” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Draco, holding out his hand. 

Remus took it, smiling. Harry knew he was sizing Draco up, making sure he was everything Harry hoped he was. Sirius and Remus had both been protective of Harry, and Remus had become even more so after Sirius’ death. If Draco was aware of Remus’ intent, he didn’t say anything. 

“Oh! I’ve got breakfast for us as well,” Remus said. “And Padfoot’s probably losing his mind in the car. I’ll be back in a moment.” 

Harry busied himself with putting away the groceries while Remus went out to the car. Draco seemed unsure of what to do with himself, so Harry told him to relax and have a seat on the couch. 

“I’ll bring everything up for you,” said Harry. “Besides, you’re the guest here. You shouldn’t have to do anything. My Aunt Petunia would be appalled at my manners.” 

“Truly barbaric,” said Draco drily, but he squeezed Harry’s hand and gave him a kiss before leaving the room. 

Harry was halfway through putting the groceries away when he heard the sound of paws on tile, and he turned just in time to be knocked over by Padfoot, who then managed to step on every part of Harry’s body in his excitement.

“I’ve tried to train him out of that,” said Remus. “He’s stubborn as hell, though.” 

“Probably doing what he thinks will make Sirius proud.” 

There was a pregnant pause between the pair. Harry scratched gently behind Padfoot’s ears, and asked, 

“How are you doing with--with everything?” 

“The doctors seem to have figured out a combination that works,” said Remus, “so I’ve been doing much better than the last time you saw me. Otherwise, I’m a bit lonely, but that’s to be expected these days.” 

“And you’ve been eating?” asked Harry. “Taking care of yourself and all that? Molly would have my head if I didn’t--”

“I’ve been eating,” Remus assured Harry .”I really am doing better. Your letters help. I can’t remember the last time someone sent me a letter rather than calling me.” 

Harry shrugged. “I think it’s fun.” 

Remus pulled out three plates and began dividing up the food he’d brought. Harry  watched as he did so, and didn’t speak. 

“Draco’s good to you? He makes you happy?” Remus asked. “He seemed a little...standoffish.” 

“He’s uncomfortable around  new people,” Harry explained. “I’m happy. You don’t have to threaten him out of my life or anything. It’d be strange if you did, considering I invited him down for Christmas.” 

“Maybe you wanted someone to drink cocoa with on Christmas Eve,” Remus said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

He looked so much older than Harry remembered.

There was a shout and a crash from upstairs, and both Remus and Harry abandoned their conversation to sprint up the stairs. On the sitting room floor, with Padfoot licking his face, was Draco. 

“Padfoot, here,” said Harry patting his leg twice. Padfoot moved away from Draco and stood before Harry, his tail wagging dangerously behind him.

“You stay here,” Remus said. “I’ll get our breakfasts from the kitchen. Come on, Padfoot.” 

Luckily, the rest of the day passed without incident. Remus stayed for lunch, then took his leave, promising to come say hello on Christmas day. Harry and Draco spent the rest of the  day trying to get Grimmauld Place to feel a little bit less like a funeral home, and by that night, Harry thought that they’d done a pretty good job of it. 

“I thought we were supposed ot be relaxing over this break,” Draco groaned from where he was sprawled on the couch. 

“That’s what these are for,” Harry said. Draco sat up, mood obviously lifting at the sight of the two nearly overflowing mugs of hot cocoa in Harry’s hands. “Budge over, will you. I don’t want to spill these.”

“That’d be a great start to the holiday,” said Draco. “First, letting your massive dog attack me, then covering me in molten chocolate.” 

“Careful, or I might just drink both of these.” 

“You wouldn’t dare, Potter.” Draco grinned. “Remember, we bought our tickets round-trip. You’re stuck with me until the end of the holidays, and I am very good at complaining.” 

“Fuck, you drive a hard bargain, Malfoy.” Harry handed the mug to Draco, then leant back against the sofa. Draco held his mug in both hands and leant contentedly against Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently on a bus, the same bus I have been on for about five and a half hours, so I apologize for any typos. Enjoy! :D


	21. Midnight Murmurs

Draco rested his head on his arms and let his eyes drift shut as  Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair.

“You’re rather fascinated with my hair,” Draco said. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good. 

“It’s soft,” Harry replied. “Does your entire family have hair this light?” 

Draco nodded. “My mother’s is a bit darker, but we’re all pale and blond.” 

“I like it,” said Harry. 

“Wait until the summer,” Draco said. “I go red at the slightest hint of sunlight.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a burn.” 

“Don’t worry. I burn enough for the both of us.” 

Harry ran his hand over Draco’s bare shoulders, and down his back, smiling at the way Draco practically melted into the mattress. He repeated the gesture and shifted slightly so he could bend to kiss the pale skin of Draco’s back. 

“We’re so different,” said Harry quietly. 

Draco hummed in agreement. 

“I like that about us,” Harry said. “We’re almost complete opposites, but we work.” 

His hand dipped below the sheet covering Draco to run over the smooth skin of Draco’s arse, but all too soon, he was running his fingers up Draco’s spine. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Harry whispered. “Like--” 

He broke off abruptly. Draco looked over his shoulder at Harry, who’d gone slightly red. 

“Like what?” Draco asked. 

“When I was younger, my aunt had all these Christmas figurines and one of them was a snow covered castle,” Harry explained. “It was like the ones in fairy tales, you know, with all the towers and and things. Sometimes, when I’d sneak out of my--my room at night I’d imagine there was a prince in there. It’s stupid.” 

Draco sat up and tilted Harry’s chin up. 

“That’s not stupid at all,” he said, and hoped Harry could feel the sincerity in his kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funnily enough, the prompt for today is currently my desktop background. Thank you for reading and Happy Solstice!


	22. Leaves of Red and Green

There were times Draco felt uncomfortable holding Harry’s hand in public, but he held on because he knew Harry found comfort in touch. 

But Harry’s very good at reading Draco. He knew what the tightness in Draco’s jaw meant, knew the way his smile went stiff and didn’t quite reach his eyes. Harry squeezed Draco’s hand once, and then released it. 

“Come on, Draco,” he said, rushing ahead. “I want to see if we can find any poinsettias. Ron’s mum loves them.” 

Harry smiled over his shoulder at Draco, kind and understanding, and Draco felt himself relax just a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while doing research (read: looking up how to spell 'poinsettia'), I learned that the "flowers" are actually a type of specialized leaf! ~The more you know~ 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	23. Put Me At Ease

The house felt too still, and Harry knew even as he called Draco’s name that he was the only one inside. Draco knew enough about London that Harry didn’t feel worried if Draco had wandered off someplace--he’d be able to find his way back. 

Harry kept looking around, just to make sure. 

To his surprise, he found Draco sitting in the small back garden, bundled up in his coat and looking up at the sky. Harry grabbed his coat and slipped his shoes on and joined Draco on the bench. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked. 

“You haven’t got enough pennies,” Draco murmured, but he looped his arm through Harry’s. 

The pair sat in silence for a long moment, watching the snow fall all around them. The flakes melted on Harry’s glasses, but he didn’t try to dry them. It’d be futile anyway, with the way it was snowing. 

“I called my mother,” Draco said finally. He didn’t look at Harry as he said this, just kept his gaze on the snow falling towards them. “She wants to meet you.” 

“Is that--?” 

“It’s okay,” said Draco. “She’s coming to London. Asked about meeting your family. I didn’t know--”

Harry’s breath clouded in the air, and it took all of his self control to keep his breathing even. 

“Sirius and Remus were my family. I’m very close with the Grangers and Weasleys, but other than that…” He trailed off, picking nervously at the denim of his trousers. “I don’t have anyone else.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Yes, well.” Harry shrugged. “It’s all in the past now, isn’t it? When did she want to meet?” 

“She’s coming up for some dinner or something on New Year’s Eve--”

“Shit,” said Harry, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Ron and Hermione are having an engagement party that night, and I was going to ask you if you wanted to come, but I just got side-tracked by other things. I would love to meet your mother, though.” 

“Are you sure?” Draco said. “You know this means we’re rather serious, if we’re meeting each other’s parents.” 

Harry nodded, happiness swelling up inside of him. He hadn’t thought they were anything less than serious.

“She’s likely going to have someone to a background check to make sure you’re not after me for my money.” Draco rolled his eyes. “As if any of the matches my parents proposed to me were about anything  _ other  _ than money.” 

“Do you think she’ll like me?” Harry asked. 

Draco pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek, then rested his head on Harry’s shoulder. 

“You make me happy,” he said. “That alone will make her love you.” 


	24. Love's Pure Light

By Christmas Eve, Grimmauld Place had transformed before Draco’s eyes. It was still dark, but Harry hadn’t been wrong when he said all it needed was a few decorations. It helped that the chill was kept at bay by the large fireplaces throughout the house. 

Not to mention the tree. 

Draco loved looking at the tree. He and Harry had spent a good two hours decorating it, mostly due to a long break where they had to search for a ladder to reach the top to put the star on. That one had been new for Draco--his family had always had an angel at the top of their tree. 

Draco would be lying if he said he didn’t long to be with his mother and father in their sitting room, laughing beside the large tree. Their tree was always done in green, red, and silver. It always looked immaculate, and Draco saw none of that in the tree he shared with Harry. He missed his mother’s laughter as his father teased her, missed his father’s smiles that always came easier when he was alone with his family where no one could ever call him weak. 

It felt like someone else’s life now, worlds away. 

The room was filled with the soft glow of the multi-coloured fairy lights, and the flickering warmth of the fire. Harry was asleep with his head resting on Draco’s thigh, and his hand loosely gripping Draco’s, even as he slept. Draco pushed back Harry’s bangs and ran the back of his hand over Harry’s cheek. A ghost of a smile touched Harry’s lips, but he didn’t wake. He just gripped Draco’s hand a little bit tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you all have a fantastic holiday!


	25. And to All a Good Night

Champagne. 

That’s what Harry thought of as he watched Draco and Remus sitting together on the couch, laughing at something Harry hadn’t been paying attention to. Padfoot rested his head on Harry’s leg, letting out a quiet whine, and Harry reached over to scratch behind his ears. 

There had been times Harry had thought he’d never be happy. There were the days locked in his cupboard with only his broken toys and the spiders for company. There were the many Christmases he’d had with the Dursleys, where he’d watched Dudley open every gift in the room while being reminded that  _ only good boys got gifts from Santa. _ There was the Christmas after Sirius’ death, where Harry had locked himself away and acted like he could ignore the dull ache in his chest. 

Today, there was a different feeling resting in the place that ache used to be. It was a light feeling, a warm feeling that went up, up, up through his body like the bubbles rising to the top of a champagne flute. 

When he met Draco’s gaze, Harry couldn’t stop the giddy smile from rising to his lips. This was more than happiness. This was pure, unadulterated love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you so much for reading! I will (likely) be following this up with the New Year's Eve party, as it feels weird just leaving it. It should be up by New Year's Eve. I hope you've all had a wonderful Christmas!


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